


Prospecting

by atwas



Series: Call of Cthulhu: New Vegas [1]
Category: Call of Cthulhu: Path of Perdition (Web Series), Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, New Vegas AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atwas/pseuds/atwas
Summary: "Why do you call it prospecting?""Hm? Guess it's a phrase I picked up from a few people, here and there. I think it sounds a little better-- mining the ruins for useful things, instead of stealing them."
Relationships: Sunil Pandey & Kit Sullivan
Series: Call of Cthulhu: New Vegas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082231
Kudos: 7





	Prospecting

* * *

"If the note we got off of that old terminal was right, then the shipment should have been sent here instead." Sunil tapped at the screen of his Pip-Boy, the amber UI illuminating his face. The two of them had found some decent cover in the scrub and hills surrounding the abandoned factory, and were planning their next move.

Kit looked up from where he was disassembling and cleaning his rifle. It was laid out carefully, almost lovingly, on an old scrap of flag. "And I mean, why would anybody lie in a terminal entry?"

Sunil huffed and turned his attention back to their packs, where he had been taking stock of their combined inventory. "Well, it's the best lead we have. It seems like this particular shipment bounced all over the Mojave before finally showing up here." He paused, and tapped his fingers together, doing some mental math. "Remind me when we get back into town-- we're running low on stimpacks and Med-X."

"Sure."

"We're good on ammunition. We still have a handful of the high-calibre armour piercing rounds, which will be good for any robotic security we encounter... Are you sure you don't want to borrow my spare laser rifle?"

"I think I'll manage, Sunil. Thank you." Kit re-assembled his rifle, and reached for the ammunition-- chambering 5 rounds and pocketing the rest. "I'll make these count."

"Suit yourself then." Sunil examined the microfusion cell in his plasma rifle, and then slotted it back into its port, satisfied.

"Will do." Kit carefully folded the scrap of flag, and tucked it into his pack. "I've been keeping an eye on the place, haven't seen any activity so far. Looks abandoned enough aside from the security."

"A few Protectrons and a Mr. Gutsy is a pretty good deterrent for most scavengers." Sunil paused, then smiled. "Good thing we're not most scavengers."

"That's for sure." Kit extended a hand to help Sunil up, which Sunil gratefully took. "Our prospecting expertise aside, the faster we get in and out, the better. We've been tracking this supposed shipment of Stealth Boys for weeks."

Sunil dusted himself off and slung his pack over his shoulders, securing the various straps. "Why do you call it prospecting?"

"Hm? Guess it's a phrase I picked up from a few people, here and there. I think it sounds a little better-- mining the ruins for useful things, instead of stealing them."

"Prospecting. I like that." Sunil holstered his plasma rifle, and considered the screen of his Pip-Boy one last time. "No time like the present."

"No time indeed." Kit held his rifle at the ready with a practiced ease. An ease that Sunil figured was only possible after years of experience. Kit led the way down from the bluff, picking his way down through the desert scrub and loose rock.

The two of them approached the factory as the sun began to set, burning its last rays over the harsh desert landscape. The factory appeared abandoned, aside from the few patrolling robots they had spotted from their vantage point. Kit led the way, skirting the shattered asphalt of the parking lot. He paused before they made their final approach, and took a minute to watch the robotic sentries. Sunil waited, crouching in the dust, as his ghoul companion analysed the patrol patterns.

"At the eastern corner, that window." Kit spoke quietly, his voice barely above the level of a whisper. "On my mark, we've got about a 20 second window. You should be able to use the crates to climb up into it."

Sunil nodded. "20 seconds. Got it."

Kit watched the sentries intently, tapping a silent count onto the stock of his rifle with his fingers. After a few moments, he jerked his head towards the window in a signal.

Sunil had already left their hiding place and was making his way across the parking lot before Kit had to audibly say anything. Kit followed close behind-- walking backwards with his rifle at the ready. As the two of them approached, it became obvious that the crates weren't as structurally sound as they appeared to be from a distance. Instead, Kit gave Sunil a boost up into the window, and then followed-- finding as much purchase as he could in the crumbling mortar between the bricks.

The two of them landed on their feet in a dusty hallway-- breathing heavily from the exertion of their run.

"17 seconds." Sunil leaned against the wall and took off his hat so he could better brush the hair out of his eyes.

Kit gave a pleased hum. "16 by my count. You're getting good at this."

"I have a good teacher." Sunil took a deep breath and consulted the map on his Pip-Boy. "The pre-war map data I have isn't the most complete, but lucky for us, the building is intact."

"Mm. Most of the architecture out here is. You can thank Mr. House for that."

"Oh?"

"He had a private security system that knocked out most of the war-heads aimed at the Strip. That's why everything out here is as intact as it is, Hoover Dam included."

Sunil raised an eyebrow.

"Rumour has it, at least," Kit shrugged. "Which way are we going?"

"It looks like there's a sub-floor with maintenance and storage rooms." Sunil shifted closer to Kit and angled his arm so that the Pip-Boy screen was more visible. "We're here, so if we head through the offices, we should have access to the back stairwell and be able to avoid the factory floor altogether."

Kit leaned over and traced a path on the map, his finger ghosting over the screen, but not touching it. "Like this?"

"Yes, I think so."

Kit moved away, and out of Sunil's space-- perhaps a trifle more quickly than necessary. "Sounds good. Let's get to it then."

"You don't have to do that, you know."

Kit cast a glance back. "Do what?"

"You don't need to keep so much distance from me," Sunil said conversationally. "We've been travelling together for at least a month now, all things considered."

Kit hummed, a noise that sounded more like a growl than anything else. "I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Pandey."

Sunil sighed, but did not press the issue.

* * *

  
The administrative area of the factory was obviously untouched, and had been for decades. As the two of them made their way down the hallways, each careful step sank into a thick layer of dust. Motes of dust floated into the air, illuminated by the occasional window and the occasional flashlight beam from Sunil's Pip-Boy. The two of them moved in silence-- with Kit taking point, his rifle at the ready. Sunil followed behind, occasionally checking through desks or abandoned boxes.

Progress was slow-going. Sunil felt his impatience itching at his fingers, but fought it down. He was used to Kit's methodical pace, and intellectually he appreciated it. From what he managed to cobble together from Kit's one-off comments and references, he had been working as a mercenary in the wastes for at least a few decades-- and mercenaries did not work in the wasteland for decades unless they were good at what they did. So he deferred to his mercenary's expertise, and kept quiet as Kit thoroughly swept each room before they moved on.

Kit waved Sunil forward to pick a particularly stubborn lock, but pointed up, towards the ceiling. Sunil paused with a bobby-pin in his mouth and looked up-- he could just barely hear the thrumming propulsion of a Mr. Gutsy as it passed by on the floor above. He deftly finished picking the lock. "After you."

"Thanks, Sunil."

As Kit swept the office, Sunil made himself comfortable at the still glowing terminal at the desk. With a few commands, he by-passed the BIOS and scanned through the files. It was the usual pre-war corporate drama-- office politics, questionable workplace practices, and miscommunication abound. Hidden deep within the inbox was a missive about the shipment they were tracking, and a quick scan of the outbox did not show any responses. "Kit, I think we've finally got them!"

Kit was perched on the opposite end of the desk, watching the door. "Promising. Glad we took the time to check the offices."

Sunil unplugged his Pip-Boy from the terminal, and followed Kit down the hall. The two of them moved with a bit more purpose now, and headed straight for the stairwell. The door wasn't locked, but Kit held up a hand before they headed down. "Turn your flashlight off. I think I hear something."

Sunil tapped it off and waited obediently as Kit scouted forward, down the stairs. Sure enough, Sunil could just barely make out a flickering light towards the bottom, and a muffled noise of some kind. Kit cursed under his breath-- too soft to make out. Sunil bit back a question, and instead watched Kit round the corner, approach the door and ease it open. After a few heartbeats, Kit waved Sunil forward.

Kit took a step forward through the threshold, and froze. In the split second that followed, Sunil registered three things: a faint click, Kit's choked gasp, and a bright light. After that, his world was blinding pain and sound.

The explosion was almost instant, but the aftermath felt like Sunil had taken a hit of Jet. His vision blurred. The world seemed to slow around him. His ears rang with the after-shock. He found himself gripping the hand-rail of the stairwell, doing his best to hold himself up. He tasted grit and dust.

In the split-second that followed the explosion, he registered Kit's limp form, flung against the wall of the stairwell.

Sunil half-stumbled, half-slid down the stairs. A small voice in the back of his head told him to check the doorway, but he ignored it. Instead, he fumbled for a stimpack-- jamming the needle into Kit's thigh to inject the medicine.

"Kit? Kit, stay with me." He did a quick run-down, his Followers training kicking in-- falling back into the automatic habit of triage. It allowed him to quell the rising panic in the back of his mind, and to cordon off the rest of his mind-- to refocus it into something useful and helpful.

Kit drew a wheezing breath. His normal rasp sounded painful.

"Right, right. It's okay. Just wait for the stims to kick in. You're going to be fine," Sunil rambled, his fingers finding the zippers in Kit's armour. He peeled back the reinforced leather and winced at the blood seeping through Kit's sweater. His stomach was practically shredded-- where there was once skin, there was a pulpy mess of flesh and blood instead. "You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine. I need to get you out of here. I need to get you..."

Sunil saw the muscles in Kit's abdomen jump at his probing touch. He snatched his hands back, and watched as the stimpack did its best to knit the muscles back together. Kit did not make a noise.

"This is going to hurt, I'm so sorry." Sunil carefully maneuvered himself so that Kit's arm was around his shoulders. He struggled to stand up. "Kit, you're going to have to help me a little bit. You're too heavy. I'm so sorry."

Sunil felt Kit's weight lessen slightly, but paled once he looked down and saw the state of his legs and feet. One ankle was twisted unnaturally, and what looked like shards of bone were barely showing through his already lesioned skin. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. It's just a few stairs. I'll count them, okay? It's just 10 steps."

Sunil heard Kit mumble something softly in response.

"10 steps. Just 10. We can count them together, and I can get you into the office and fix you up." Sunil frantically rummaged through his first aid pouch and came up with a syringe of Med-X. "This will deaden the pain a bit. Kit, please stay with me."

"'ll stay with you," Kit slurred, his gravelly speech almost incomprehensible.

"Good. Good." Sunil quickly gave Kit the dose of Med-X. "Okay. 10."

"9"

"8"

"7..."

* * *

  
Kit came back to himself propped up against a wall. He recognized the room-- the office in the factory. The terminal was still glowing with a baleful green light. He took stock of his surroundings, then shot upright-- or did his best to. Pain lanced through his body like lightning when he tried to move. "Sunil?"

"I'm here! I'm here." Sunil ducked back into the room from the hall, and carefully closed the door behind himself.

"Sunil, are you alright?"

Sunil frowned. "Yes. I am. Hush."

"No, I need to make sure that you're--"

"--Kit. I am fine. Stop."

Kit stopped. He then looked down at himself. "Oh." He prodded at the edges of his stomach, and flinched. "Oh."

"I was worried I lost you there, for a second." Sunil knelt down next to him, and spread out the armful of his supplies on a tray. He avoided Kit's gaze. "For a little while there, I thought you were gone."

Kit dug his fingers into the dusty carpet as Sunil went to work-- cleaning, and disinfecting. The alcohol-soaked rags hurt like hell, but he knew it was a necessary evil. He'd been injured enough times to know that, often, a festering wound in the wasteland was akin to a death sentence. Sunil took a pair of sanitized forceps and proceeded-- looking for shrapnel or other foreign objects. Despite himself, a whine of pain escaped Kit.

Sunil stopped. "You can feel that?"

Kit nodded weakly.

"I must have given you two doses of Med-X already. How can you feel anything?"

Kit balled his hands into fists, as though the pressure would distract him from the pain. "Different physiology," he choked out from behind gritted teeth. "Chems don't work the same on ghouls. Need double the dose."

Sunil's once confident hands faltered. "I didn't know."

"'s fine. Most don't."

"No-- it's not fine, Kit. We don't have any more Med-X."

"It's fine. You need to get the debris out."

"We have enough stims, we can get you walking long enough to get to a clinic--"

"Just do it, Sunil. You can't stim over a wound like this."

Sunil re-adjusted his grip on the forceps. "I know. I'm sorry for this."

"Just do it."

Sunil took his time to be thorough, and even then, Kit directed him back to certain places-- places where tiny fragments of sharp metal still needed to be extracted. Other than these terse exchanges, they worked in silence. After what seemed like hours, Sunil finally wiped his brow and sat back on his haunches. The metal tray had a neat collection of metal shards on it, coated in blood. He reached for the needle and thread, but Kit stopped him.

"I can do the stitches. Just focus on my ankle."

"Are you sure?"

Kit nodded. "I've stitched myself up plenty of times. Other people too. Just. The fracture. Please."

"Alright."

Setting the fracture was simple enough. While the bone had broken the skin, it was luckily a clean break-- nothing splintered. With the break set, and a stimpack and splint applied to the area directly, Sunil watched Kit work.

Kit sewed with precision. Each stitch was professional, and deliberate. He worked fast too-- before long, his stomach was crisscrossed with rows of neat, tiny stitches. He worked from the muscle layer up, and seemed to intuit how exactly his flesh fit together. He sewed like a craftsman. Sunil just watched, taking in the delicate motions of his fingers and hands-- and the practice ease with which he made his own skin whole again.

"Dirty water. In my pack." Kit held out a hand. Sunil wordlessly passed him a marked bottle of water. Kit unceremoniously dumped the irradiated water over his abdomen.

"Wh--"

"Radiation. Helps ghouls heal faster." Kit's speech was clipped, and clinical.

Sunil passed him a stim before he could ask, and Kit applied it directly in doses-- strategically placing the injections to maximize healing. Sunil watched. Applying stimpacks like that was complex, and more of an art than a science. So many things could go wrong if not correctly applied, and yet Kit handled the injections like a pro.

After the injections were done, Kit slowly shrugged his way out of his armour, and Sunil helped him get out of the blood-soaked sweater. They sat in silence for a time, as if they finally had the ability to process what happened. Kit's chest was criss-crossed with scars and old lesions. Sunil had a hard time telling how many were from old injuries, and how many were just artifacts of the ghoulification process. Either way, what muscle was exposed was very minimal compared to other ghouls he had seen or treated in the past.

"You've done this before," Sunil said.

"Yes. I mentioned."

"No, not just the stitching," Sunil folded his arms. "You're not just some mercenary. You've had training. Real medical training."

Kit nodded, clearly in no mood to argue. "I have."

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"It never came up."

Sunil gave Kit a look. 

Kit shrugged. "It didn't, alright? Besides, working as a mercenary, it's better to advertise certain skills more than others." His voice trailed off, as though he had other thoughts but did not know how to voice them.

"Well. I'm glad I know now. And I'm glad you were present enough to point out some of the debris. I probably would have missed some of it if you weren't."

"You're a fine doctor, Sunil. You'd have found it. I trust your very capable hands," Kit said, with his now-familiar crooked smile on his face. "Besides," he looked down at his hands, his fingers laced together. "I told you I would stay with you. So no need to worry."

"I didn't think you'd remember that." Sunil passed Kit another bottle of irradiated water before taking some clean water for himself.

"It's about the only thing I do remember after tripping that pressure plate."

"So what did happen down there?"

"Well. The pressure-plate got the best of me. It was hidden under the carpet," Kit winced. "I felt the plate proc, and next thing I knew there was a lovely grenade bouquet swinging for me. It got me good-- I think I took most of the blast."

"You did. I'm surprised you're still alive."

Kit laughed, a short sharp sound. "It'll take more than some trap laid by a scavver 100 years ago to do me in." At Sunil's questioning gaze, he elaborated. "I saw in the room once I opened the door-- nothing in there but a skeleton with a shotgun across its lap. Whoever set up that doorbell did so long before you or even your parents were alive."

"I see." Sunil's gaze wandered to Kit's injuries. "You still look a lot better off than I thought you would."

"It's one of the better kept secrets about being a ghoul. I've got a small natural healing factor. Couple that with some radiation, and I can walk off more than you'd expect." He picked at the edge of some missing skin on the back of one of his hands. "I still probably would have died if you weren't here. Thank you."

"You're... you're welcome."

"I mean it, you know." Kit's eyes shone in the dim light, the pupils reflecting in the darkness like a cat's. "Thank you, Sunil."

"Just returning the favour."

* * *

  
The two of them spent a few days holed up in the offices. They had brought along enough food for a week's trip and then some, so even though it was cramped, they were safe.

Once Kit healed enough to walk and carry his gun, the two of them ventured down once more into the sub-level. Kit took point again, but very carefully pointed out each trap as they passed it-- narrating to Sunil how to disarm each one. A tripwire here, a well concealed pressure-plate there, and even a frag mine hidden under some innocent-looking detritus. At the end of the short hallway, there was a room; and sure enough, a long-dead skeleton was their only welcoming party. The person's flesh had long been eaten away by time, leaving only their ossified remains in the cushioned chair.

They searched the maintenance level, but the only evidence of the Stealth Boy shipment was a note detailing the return of said shipment to the distributor, and the ruined remains of a couple of the devices-- oozing a strange transparent liquid that shimmered like oil on water.

With a new set of coordinates in the Pip-Boy the two headed north, back to the New Vegas strip, and their temporary base of operations in the Lucky 38.


End file.
